


A  World Without You is a World Without Beauty

by moon_rise



Category: The Song of Achilles - Madeline Miller
Genre: Bittersweet Ending, Boys In Love, Established Relationship, Hurt/Comfort, Introspection, Light Angst, M/M, They're so in love omg, achilles is a good boyfriend, patroclus is sad
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-23
Updated: 2019-07-23
Packaged: 2020-07-11 19:30:47
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,233
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19933321
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/moon_rise/pseuds/moon_rise
Summary: Patroclus had already decided. After Achilles falls in a hail of fame and glory, he shall be close behind as he had already vowed to follow the bright light that is Achilles to the very end of the world. No one would be able to tear them apart.





	A  World Without You is a World Without Beauty

**Author's Note:**

> okay I wrote this after reading the book because Patrochilles' relationship absolutely tore my heart in half and I love them so much. I hope y'all enjoy this angst fest and cry along with me.

_ “If you go to Troy, you will never return. You will die a young man there.” _

  


_ “It is certain.” _

  


Thetis’ words echo ceaselessly in Patroclus’ head. He turns his head to the side. _Achilles_. He could feel the faint puffs of air each time Achilles exhaled, slow and easy. Despite the news, Achilles fell into a restful slumber. Patroclus lay awake, his breath coming out ragged. Achilles—his whole world, his soulmate—would no longer be beside him.   


  


What type of world would that be? 

  


A world without all things bright and beautiful. A world not worth living in. Patroclus had already decided. After Achilles falls in a hail of fame and glory, he shall be close behind, as he had already vowed to follow the bright light that is Achilles to the very end of the world. 

  


Patroclus’ gaze grew wistful. Achilles’ golden hair, usually held back, was splayed across the pillow like a glowing halo. His lean, sinewy body lay relaxed with the rise and fall of his chest. The vivacity of his fierce green eyes remain closed and oblivious to the current happenings of the world.  Patroclus reached out to stroke his face. Lightly tracing a pathway from the tufts of fair hair, down to the sharp edge of his jawline, Patroclus choked back a sob. He had practically memorized every minute detail pertaining to Achilles’ body. So vivid, if he closed his eyes, it was almost as if Achilles was there with him—touching him, smiling at him,  _ loving him _ .    


  


It wasn’t good enough. The Achilles of his imagination lacked the warmth and radiance that was so distinctly him, that Patroclus hated it. Patroclus knew everything there was to know about Achilles. By touch. By smell. He would be able to recognize Achilles even if he were to lose all sense of everything else. At his very core, all he ever cares to know will always undoubtedly be Achilles. The other half of his soul. 

  


He could not pinpoint the exact moment when his feelings for Achilles became so devastatingly tremendous, however, he knew that they can never be reined in. With each passing day, he feels as if his body has become the very vessel that contains all of the love and admiration his Achilles could ever ask for and more. Constantly brimming with its contents, he can barely keep it from toppling and flooding everything away, until it was just the two of them together.

_   
_

_ Achilles and Patroclus.  _

  


Chiron was right. It would be the greater grief to be the one left on earth when another is gone. Perhaps he was a coward. Achilles—destined to be the greatest warrior of his generation, destined to have his story etched into an eternal legend. All the while he lay, fearing that he won’t be able to bear the anguish once Achilles fulfills the prophecy. 

  


A bittersweet smile contorted his calm features. He was never excellent at anything. All his life, he had spent it in fear or resentment. He supposed he became a much stronger person, both in physicality as well as spirit after forming a bond with Achilles. 

  


Achilles was his  _ savior _ . The absolute radiance that Achilles emitted helped lead him out of the dark tunnel, and gave him hope that he could be happy. Feeling so giddy, his cheeks hurt from smiling. His eyes sparkling with a newfound sense of ease and tranquility. His tongue practically running away from him, high off the feeling of freedom. 

  


Ah. He understands. This was Achilles’ fate. Whether it be liberating Patroclus from his own demons, or bringing an end to the bitter war, he has been bound to this path. It is written in the stars and acknowledged by all. 

  


_ Aristos Achaion _ . Greatest warrior of his generation. Destined to fend off the great Trojan army and bring victory. 

  


A tear slid down Patroclus’ trembling face. He did not have the capability to go up against the gods and respin what was meant to be. There was only one thing he could do. Achilles needed not request it. He would sail to Troy and Patroclus would follow, even if they were met with the most gruesome of endings. 

  


If it was Achilles’ fate to succumb to death after fulfilling the prophecy, then it was his to perish after seeing his beloved depart from the earthly plane, knowing he had done everything he could to honor the role that Achilles had bestowed onto him—his unwavering companion. 

  


Patroclus had already decided. Achilles may get a headstart, but they will meet again. In this life and all those following. 

  


The raw surge of emotion had Patroclus reeling. Scooting forward until every inch of his body made contact with Achilles’, he desperately tried to get as close as humanly possible to the warm body beside him. Achilles twitched and snuffled, signaling his impending wakefulness. Not fully conscious, Achilles buried his face into the crook of Patroclus’ neck and nuzzled.  Patroclus’ heart, gripped by the sheer affection tenderness rapidly welling up in his body, seized up. He laughed softly, albeit a bit wet, and reached around to cradle Achilles’ head. As if he could feel the unadulterated emotion Patroclus was wordlessly trying to convey, Achilles began laying soft kisses down the column of his neck. 

“That tickles,” Patroclus whispers. Yet he still pulls Achilles impossibly closer.

  


“What’s got you so worked up, Pat?” 

  


“You. It’s always you,” he said lost in the uninhibited concern those vivid green eyes were conveying. 

  


“Is this about what Mother said earlier? You know what I must do Patroclus.” He said my name in the way unique to him alone.  _ Pa-tro-clus _ . 

  


“I know. You need not worry about me Achilles, whichever path you choose to take I will always be following close behind,” he whispered, making sure to not shatter the intimate ambiance of the room. 

  


Patroclus knew from the beginning which path Achilles would embark upon. It had been painfully clear. Before Achilles was even born, the gods had already decided he would be extraordinary. Growing up, he was pushed and encouraged to pursue the excellence he was presented with—so much so, it became who he was. Who was he if not brimming with such radiance, others would be forced to acknowledge his prowess? 

  


Achilles gathered his pliant body and rearranged their positions so that Patroclus was laying on top of him. He stroked Patroclus’ thick hair, focusing on the curl behind his ear that would never quite lay flat. 

  


“Do not dwell on such a matter like this Patroclus. We are here now. Together. You are the only one that can provide me with such warmth. We mustn't let anything take this away from us.” His urgency and pleading tone ignited a fire within Patroclus. 

  


“Yes, you’re right my love. We mustn't let them take this away from us.” 

  


Achilles smiled and kissed the top of his head tenderly. They both lay in silence, wrapped up in each other’s bodies and inhaling the scent that was so uniquely  _ them _ . 

  


No one would be able to tear them apart. Not even the gods or divine beings themselves. Aristos Achaion may have been predestined, but Achilles and Patroclus? Their story was written in the stars. No matter where one was, the other will always be following behind. In this life and all of the infinite centuries to come.

  



End file.
